


intersect

by tanyart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Mathematics, Mutual Pining, Post-Recall, Pre-Relationship, Train Hopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 05:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: They meet on top of an eastbound train coming out of Houston.





	intersect

**Author's Note:**

> **McGenji Week 2017:** Day One - _Starting Out_
> 
> Takes place some time after the comic, [_Train Hopper_](https://comic.playoverwatch.com/en-us/mccree-train-hopper), and after Recall. This is technically part of the [tread lightly](http://archiveofourown.org/series/589552) series, but that is optional to read.
> 
> (Thanks to fish for allowing me to wail, and for steering me in the right direction with this, HEH.)

Train-hopping had always been McCree’s go-to mode for getting from Point A to Point B, ever since he was a little runaway in New Mexico, and so much so the habit carried over even now as an old mercenary. It might’ve not been the most lawful of ways, but it certainly wasn’t the most likely to stir up trouble so long as nobody was caught. Or, at least, that had been the idea until McCree’s little Talon scuffle a few weeks ago. That had put him in a spot where he had to avoid jumping on trains for a while in case anyone got the idea to go looking for a particular cowboy with a particular skillset hanging around the tops of trains.

That being said, he really, _really_ ought to have waited a bit longer before sneaking on the earliest hypertrain heading out of Houston.

A flash of a green glinting in the sun and a dark ribbon whipping in the air was the only warning McCree had before his peaceful ride came to a metaphorical halt.

The wind was going around too fast and too loud to speak, but McCree hoped his squinty-eyed look of annoyance was enough to convey what he would’ve said to a particular cyborg, who McCree _knew_ had been looking for a particular cowboy with a particular skillset hanging around the tops of trains.

“You. Again,” McCree said, knowing his voice was going to be drowned out from the speeding train. He figured it was going to be the only way he could get a sarcastic greeting in edgewise, but never paid to be rude to a former _sometimes_ -ally.

Genji, with his metal feet sticking comfortably to the roof, looked down at him. It made McCree feel like he was at a slight disadvantage, hunkered down in his serape with his back pressed to one of the train’s protruding compartments to escape the wind. And although he was masked, McCree got the impression Genji had a mighty smug air about him—with good reason; McCree made it a point to keep a low profile once he caught wind of Recall being initiated, and he was pretty good at avoiding calls, especially ones from Overwatch.

Genji knelt down in front of him, arm outstretched to reveal a small electronic bud between his forefinger and thumb. He pantomimed putting the device to the side of his head where his ear would have been before holding out to McCree once more.

Much to his chagrin, McCree was getting to discover he wasn’t as good at avoiding calls from Genji. He took the communicator and placed it in his ear.

“Hello, stranger,” he said, and was rewarded with Genji’s voice in his ear, clear as day.

“Stranger? I thought us closer than that.” Genji eased over to sit next to him, also opting to take shelter from the wind as the train continued to speed down the lonely track.

McCree gave him a sidelong look.

“You’d be surprised,” he replied.

Genji’s shoulders drew up, and McCree realized a little too late his comment had been on the side of churlish without meaning to be.

McCree rubbed the back of his neck. There were a lot of rumors surrounding Genji—then again, rumors were commonplace for all former Overwatch agents, himself included. There was not much McCree actually knew about Genji-the-Blackwatch-Agent, or even the current Genji sitting next to him now. But Genji of the Shimada clan? Ironically, McCree had heard plenty in the way of secondhand information, back when the Deadlocks made their exchanges with the biggest and baddest of Japanese arms dealers. It must have been quite a jump for Genji, going from rich playboy to rock bottom _dead_ in a matter of days. Not that McCree ever knew the exact specifics of the Shimada Clan in-fighting. Wasn’t his main bit, though he could assume Blackwatch had an ear to the ground and a thumb in the pie on matters involving the Shimadas.

But that had been years ago. With both Overwatch and Blackwatch gone, there was very little cause to keep up with old threads and older agents, most of whom were dead or pretending to be dead—and McCree desperately wished Genji would realize that he was trying to be a part of the latter group.

He blew out a rueful sigh, settling for a more tactful explanation rather than an apology; “Been out of touch for a while, is all.”

“I could say the same for myself,” Genji said, more good-natured than McCree would have thought he’d be. “But I’ve notice you have been less… discreet, lately.”

McCree let out a rueful laugh. It seemed like his last train-hopping stint had drawn some attention from more than just Talon after all. He guessed lonelier souls like Genji couldn’t help but hear the latest underground gossip. Once an agent, always an agent—and it wasn’t like McCree hadn’t been using his own methods to keep up with the world either.

“Keeping tabs on me, have you?” he asked.

“You’re a hard man to find most of the time. You can imagine how thrilled I am to have finally caught you.”

Maybe, years ago, McCree would have taken the statement to be sarcastic. Now he wasn’t so sure. Genji had always been a little hard to read, but it was like every time McCree heard about Genji—whether through bits of new tabloids or the shadier grapevines—Genji seemed to be a different person.

A rowdy yakuza prince, a left-for-dead disgrace, a ruthless agent, an Overwatch defector—and now a spirited adventurer.

If McCree was being honest with himself, it made him feel stagnant, in a place where he wondered if he had gotten any better. Realistically, he knew he wasn't the same Deadlock punk Gabriel pulled out from the gutter, but a directionless vagrant still seemed like a far cry from top Blackwatch agent, and Genji’s breakneck pace through life had a way of taking McCree by surprise each time.

It was just—McCree had the nasty suspicion a younger him would have greatly liked a younger Genji. And he wasn’t so sure if the idea would still stand, years later. It looked like all they ever did was meet each other at very different turning points in their lives. That maybe this Genji now would have taken an interest in him when he had been part of Blackwatch’s best and brightest, and not some burnt out mercenary for hire.

Yet here was Genji, chasing after him and keeping a companionable conversation. It was something that didn’t spark any familiarity with McCree, nothing at all like talking with an old friend. Despite their brief touches over the years, accidental run-ins or occasionally picking up same mercenary jobs, McCree had assumed long ago they were not meant to cross on particularly good terms, or maybe the universe in general just didn’t ever want them on the same page together.

“Guess I should be flattered you decided to hitch a ride with me, huh?”

“ _I’m_ riding first class,” Genji said, jerking his thumb in the direction McCree assumed was at the front of the train.

“Yeah?” McCree pursed his lips, knowing he just had to ask, if only to force Genji’s hand. “On whose tab?”

It should have annoyed him when Genji didn’t even hesitate to reply.

“An old friend of ours,” Genji said. A second later, the old Overwatch token flashed between his fingers, rolling over the metal joints before Genji tucked it away again.

It was as if McCree had been waiting for the other shoe to drop all this time. Oddly enough, it made him feel more centered—not _better_ , not with that small pang of disappointment wedging in his chest, but at least he had more clarity. _This_ was what Genji was after. “Under new management, I’m assuming.”

“Yes,” Genji said, glancing at him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, McCree. The world is changing. We cannot keep hiding forever.”

It was starting to sound like the beginnings of an old argument McCree had played over in his mind already. He let his head fall back, thumping against the compartment. “Don’t think we’re obligated to keep up with it either.”

“Wouldn’t you want to?” Genji asked. He leaned forward, just a touch closer. “A few weeks ago you stopped Talon and saved those people on the train.”

McCree frowned. He didn’t know where Genji was pulling his information from, but then again it wasn’t so hard to imagine someone blabbing about it eventually. “It was more like a civic duty kinda thing. You’re not sayin’ I should’ve minded my own business and left them to die, are you?”

Genji let out a sharp laugh, startling McCree, and shook his head. “Obviously not. But it seemed like… a very _you_ type of thing to do, protecting them. I had thought, perhaps…”

Genji had always appeared so impassive before, but his sincerity was hard to miss now and McCree didn’t know what to make of it. It seemed like Genji had grown less austere over time, and more than once McCree had been on the receiving end of a playful remark—so unlike the temperamental and morose cyborg he had known in Blackwatch.

McCree let out a weary sigh. That particular street went both ways for them, their lives a little too parallel to ever join up proper. “You’re trying to recruit an old shadow, Genji. I ain’t the same person I was in Blackwatch.”

To his surprise, Genji went very still for a moment, head turned to face McCree.

“Then perhaps I would like to get to know you again,” Genji said. After a quick pause, he amended, “Get to know you _better_. This time around.”

For a long moment, McCree didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t figure it out and wished the wind would whip the words right out of his mouth for him. Still, he held Genji’s gaze, too stubborn to shy away.

“Are you trying to seduce me back to Overwatch?” McCree asked, a little offended. If he couldn't be bashful, might as well be indignant.

“Well, not only back to Overwatch,” Genji replied, the teasing grin in his voice so clear McCree could almost picture it in his mind.

“Hm.”

McCree scratched his beard, finally looking away to the shifting landscape. Why Genji thought Overwatch was worth bringing back, he couldn’t guess, and why Genji thought McCree would be willing to be a part of it was an even bigger mystery. He just couldn’t see what made Genji so persistent and confident about this matter when the best thing McCree could muster up for himself was a washed up ex-soldier who did nothing but hop trains to get nowhere fast.

“I think,” McCree began, lowering his head, “we might be expecting something different from each other.”

“I should hope so. I was not a very nice person in Blackwatch, and I am _still_ unclear on how you managed to keep friendly with me,” Genji said, just as serious despite his faint sigh of exasperation. He reached over, placing his hand over McCree’s forearm to give it a quick shake. “McCree, to come to you expecting the same man from Blackwatch would be foolish on my end, but to come seeking the man who still risked his life save a train full of people _and_ punt incredibly valuable cargo from a speeding freight car out of spite? I would like such a man back in Overwatch, and I think Winston would to.”

“...Listen. It wasn’t out of spite.”

Genji shrugged, the hand on McCree’s arm turning into a sympathetic pat, and McCree snorted, cracking a real smile for what felt like the first time in days. He rubbed the back of his neck, dull metal fingers digging into his skin to relieve the tension building in his shoulders.

They fell into companionable silence—McCree, lost in thought, and Genji simply turning still in meditation. It wasn’t for long, but McCree found himself unexpectedly content by it.

Genji stirred, shifting into a crouch.

“I have a math problem for you,” he suddenly said.

McCree blinked. “Ain’t never been too fond of math.”

Genji laughed, quiet, and nudged his shoulder against McCree’s. “Humor me.”

McCree stared, arm tingling from the contact. He surreptitiously tugged at his sleeve. “Alright, let’s hear your math problem.”

“We have two trains. One train going east to New York City, and the other going west, towards Santa Barbara in California. The eastbound train is going 345 kilometers per hour, and the speed of the Santa Barbara train is 360 kilometers per hour—”

As Genji rattled on the rest of the math problem, McCree could hear an echoing noise in the distance, different from the hypertrain they were on. Genji tilted his head, in the direction ahead of them, and pointed to the winding railway. McCree understood immediately. He turned around, catching a glimpse of a second hypertrain approaching them on the opposite tracks.

“If they both leave their respective stations at six in the morning on the same railway, and the distance between the cities is 4620 kilometers,” Genji continued, as calm as a school teacher, “about what time would these two trains meet?”

McCree glanced back at him, mostly in disbelief. His cheap communicator had a calculator app, but that was as far as he was willing to go for a math problem that complicated.

“That ain’t fair. You know I can only count to six,” he eventually managed with a lopsided grin.

Genji snickered, standing from his spot on the train’s roof. “A shame, but fortunately for you, it’s all theoretical. It doesn’t matter.”

McCree sighed, looking up at Genji. “Where are you going with this, Genji?”

“This is my advice. You can gather all the data and facts you want, spend all that time to calculate with whatever formula of your choosing but, sometimes,” Genji said, gesturing to the approaching train, “All you need to do is wait.”

He walked to the edge, all his attention on McCree until the moment he started to sprint backwards on their train.

“And look for the opportunity to arise—”

McCree scrambled to his feet, the force of the wind nearly knocking him back. “Genji—”

“And take—” Genji’s laugh was exuberant as he jumped onto the oncoming train, whisking him away and out of sight before McCree knew it, “—a leap of faith.”

His voice was still audible through the earpiece, breathless from running, and the sound rang through McCree’s mind as the roar of both trains thrummed in the air. As McCree watch the dizzying sight of second train racing by, he felt a cold metal touch at his cheek. He glanced down, discovering the the small Overwatch token pinned to neck of his serape.

“The first class seats I mentioned earlier,” Genji called out, static fizzing in between them, “They aren’t for the train you’re on.”

“Now I _know_ for sure you’re not trying to seduce me back to Overwatch,” McCree groaned, steadying himself.

“My motives are innocent,” Genji claimed, voice growing fainter.

McCree sucked in a breath to keep from laughing. He could see the end of the second train and there wasn’t going to be much time to decide—and who knew when the next westbound train was going to intersect with his.

“So,” Genji asked, just one more time before their connection became too far to reach, “will you be joining us or—”

And then there was radio silence. McCree opened his mouth, too late to reply, but by then his legs were already moving to the edge of the train, metal arm outstretched to catch the last of the freight cars of the second hypertrain.

No time to think of anything else.

He jumped.


End file.
